


Prologue with Shawarma

by Lillian_Shepherd



Series: But in Battalions [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Shepherd/pseuds/Lillian_Shepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony had more than one reason for assembling the Avengers for shawarma after the battle of Manhattan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue with Shawarma

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue to 'But in Battalions' which will (eventually) be Steve/Tony and with a good deal higher rating than 'General Audiences'
> 
> It is canon compliant until the end of 'The Avengers' movie, but will be AU from there.

Steve Rogers was still not sure he wasn't locked in the ice, having a particularly lurid nightmare. Except, of course, his time in the ice had been dreamless. Besides, he didn't think he had the imagination to conjure up his current companions; a Norse god (or possibly an alien), a scientist who could turn into a huge green – if not particularly bright – monster, a guy who liked to shoot arrows at people, and a ... lady ... who was probably the deadliest hand-to-hand fighter he'd ever seen. Then there was Stark, with his astonishing metal suit. His imagination might have come up with Tony Stark, because he had known his father, but Howard hadn't been such a brash, hotheaded, arrogant ... oh, okay, maybe he had been at that. Anyways, even if his unconscious mind could have produced the Avengers, and he doubted it, it couldn't have produced this setting; the dimly lit restaurant in the middle of a wrecked Manhattan, the windows shattered and open to the stars, with a cold spring wind blowing over them, eating what amounted to spiced meat sandwiches in silence. Outside the shattered walls, starlight glinted on the scales of a fallen Chitauri troop carrier. Those things were definitely going to haunt his dreams from now on.

And what weapons were Fury's scientists going to produce from those?

Fury had manipulated them from the beginning, had manipulated _him_ from the moment he had woken in the vaguely familiar room with the far too familiar baseball commentary coming from the radio. He had used Steve's military training to paint himself as the tough but sympathetic senior officer. And Steve should have noticed how often he called him 'soldier' and how easily he accepted Steve's answering 'sir.'

_He's a spy. Captain, he's **the** spy. His secrets have secrets._

Stark had been right about Fury, as about so many other things.

And Stark had a whole list of grievances, starting with not being allowed onto the Avengers Initiative except as a consultant. Whatever that meant in the 21st Century. When he was less tired he needed to make an apology; he should have known that the information he had been given about Howard's son couldn't be the whole truth.

And Banner. It was plain that, despite what he'd told Steve, Fury had always planned to either restrain or use the Hulk. Which meant that Steve himself had misled Banner. Not intentionally, maybe, but misled him. 

He wondered what the two SHIELD agents thought. They had helped him to hijack the SHIELD aircraft back on the helicarrier and, despite his personal conviction that that was exactly what Fury had wanted them to do, there might be consequences for them. At the very least it would be held over their heads in an attempt to control them. And him.

Steve was still trying to cope with the very idea of Thor. A Norse god. Or an alien prince. Both, maybe. Able to fly, to control the lightning and conjure a storm, almost unkillable, possibly immortal... Yet even he seemed as exhausted as the rest of them. But Thor did not so much resent Fury as regard him as an obstacle to getting exactly what he and Asgard wanted.

Why, Steve wondered, had Stark insisted on them eating here together, as the owners and their staff bustled about trying to clean up the debris?

He'd ask him, if he could summon the energy. Sleep would be good, but it wouldn't be possible, not with his mind racing like this—

It was then Stark rapped his knuckles hard on the table and, with an effort, scrambled to his feet. "Avengers, there are things we have to decide tonight."

It took a moment or two for there to be any reaction, then every eye, including those of the restaurant staff, turned towards him. Stark glared at the employees, who backed off. Then he laid his smartphone on the table before saying: "I'm jamming all frequencies into and out of this building, except one, which is encoded so deeply that it can't be tapped by SHIELD or anyone else."

"Can't this wait, Tony?" Banner asked.

"No," Stark said. "We have a very small window of opportunity here. Within a few hours hacking into SHIELD's computers will be impossible."

"I thought you were already in," Steve said, hoping he sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.

"I am, but sooner or later Fury's techs will find the back doors Ja—the software created, and get rid of them, even if they have to use the system backups to do it. However, they have other things on their minds right now."

"You found Phase Two," Romanoff pointed out. "What else do you have in mind?"

"More a case of what you people have in mind," Stark retorted, which made Barton suddenly sit up straighter in his chair. "Even before it was cancelled, I was out of the Avengers Initiative, on your recommendation, I believe, Natalie-Natasha. What Fury wanted was the Iron Man suit – or, failing that, the War Machine, but the military weren't playing over that." He turned to stare straight at her: "I wonder, Black Widow, were you or Hawkeye here actually meant to be part of the Initiative? Cap here pulled you in – in Hawkeye's case, his call, and a damn good one."

It was Barton who answered. "Watch yourself, Stark – you're so sharp you may cut your own throat yet."

"So you weren't."

"Not as clear cut as that," Romanoff corrected. "I was working with Coulson on evaluation and recruitment until the Initiative was cancelled, but it was always understood that Clint and I – as a team – would be called on as support, or even as active members if you heavy hitters weren't available."

"Which was why you came to drag me into this," said Banner.

"To persuade you."

Banner snorted.

"Are you suggesting I'm not persuasive?" Romanoff asked, fingering a knife she had produced from somewhere impossibly hidden in her skin-tight leather cat-suit.

"Very persuasive," Banner assured her hurriedly, looking pointedly at the knife.

"Indeed, absolutely persuasive," Stark agreed. "You can persuade me of anything anytime so long as it's not with a hypodermic – did she use a hypo on you, Bruce? Because she did on me—"

"Your point, Stark?" Steve asked gently, trying to cut through the distracting babble which, he was beginning to realise, was a deliberate tactic – he had underestimated Stark once and had no intention of making that particular mistake again.

"No, no, it was her point, and just as pointed as the one she's holding right now—all right, Nat. No, all right, the point is that Fury thinks we're his puppets. Well, maybe not Thor..."

Thor swallowed a huge bite of flatbread, and then said, "I must return to Asgard to deliver my brother to face the justice of Odin. For that, Man of Iron, I must use the Tesseract. I have already spoken to One-eyed Fury to this end."

Now that, Steve would have liked to have seen. Stark's eyes caught his, a sly grin flashing across his face, and Steve knew their thoughts were identical and that Stark knew it too.

"So long as Odin's justice involves boiling oil I'm all for that," Barton drawled.

"Fury—" Banner began.

"Fury can fuck off," Barton snapped back.

"Well, precisely, though don't tell him that until we've gotten Loki on his way," Stark said. "That's why we need to decide now whether you SHIELD agents want to stick with SHIELD or throw in with the Avengers, in which case I need to move fast to make you disappear from their computer records. That goes for you too, Cap."

The world froze.

Ten, twenty, thirty, forty seconds, nothing moved, no-one spoke; then a muffled crash as one of the restaurant staff emptied a dust pan full of broken crockery into a trash can made everyone jump, even Thor.

They started breathing again.

"The Avengers belong to SHIELD," Romanoff observed mildly.

"The Initiative did," Stark agreed, "but there is no longer an Avengers Initiative. There is a team, though – at least, that's what I told Loki – whether you want to call it the Avengers or not. I'd be worried enough about Fury controlling that team, but the guys behind him, the ones who sent that nuke—"

"The World Security Council," Barton said, glowering. "Politicians." He made it a curse.

Another complication Steve hadn't known about, something with which he had not yet come to terms.

"Fury's keeping them at bay," Romanoff stated.

"But for how long?" Stark asked. "None of them are laying hands on the armour, for sure. Or the Hulk, though Bruce should be safe enough in Stark Tower."

Bruce was smiling but what he said was: "Not your tower, Tony. The Other Guy has ... well, done enough damage to... you know... New York."

"Hey, I'm willing to take the risk. And you won't find better facilities anywhere than in my research labs."

Banner's expression changed, becoming hard and sharp. "Maybe. But for someone so protective of his own tech, Stark, you should ... er... understand my reluctance to compromise my rights to the results of my own research."

Stark looked annoyed, then grinned and shrugged. "Well, it was worth a try. All the same Dr Banner, you need a facility. There's one of my father's mothballed out in Oklahoma. It's off all the networks, so you should be safe there."

Steve was remembering his own words, words that he was sure had prompted Stark's proposal.

_Fury's got the same blood on his hands that Loki does. But right now we've got to put that behind us and get this done._

And now it was done. Leaving it behind them was still an option, but not one he was comfortable with. "I'm not going back to SHIELD," Steve said. "But it's going to be difficult for me to fit in yet stay out of their line of sight." He was beginning to realise just how helpless he was in this strange future world and how much he had let himself become dependent on SHIELD – but Stark was offering him a way out. It all came down to who he could trust: Nick Fury or Tony Stark. And that conversation with Banner had made the choice easy. "I'd appreciate any help you can give me, Tony."

"You'll get it." Stark grinned at him, a genuine grin that warmed his heart.

"And you'll be paid back, just as soon as—"

"Sure, sure." Stark waved that away, turning to the two SHIELD agents. "Now Fury realises he can't control Cap we need to get him clear, but maybe we could use a line into the organisation."

"Not me," Barton said. "No one in SHIELD is ever going to trust me again. You want me to sound out Phil Coulson?"

This time the pause was agonised.

Barton's eyes flickered from one face to another, his own expression changing from hope through puzzlement to fear.

"Tasha?"

Romanoff met Barton's eyes squarely. "Not you," she said. "Loki himself. Coulson didn't make it."

"Oh, shit." Barton's fists were clenched around his flatbread, pulling it to shreds. Now he swung on Stark. "Okay, that's it. I'm buying whatever you're selling."

Romanoff sighed deeply. "And Clint needs someone to look after him. There's no one else now."

"You don't have to do that, Nat."

"Yes I do, Clint." They were holding each other's eyes, as if there was no one else in the room. Steve held back, knowing that interference would not be tolerated. For a wonder, Stark did the same.

The silence stretched. Romanoff inclined her head. Barton gave a tiny nod, then relaxed, and broke the stare. "Okay, Stark. Do it. I'll also take ideas as to how we earn a living while keeping under the radar."

"Don't you want to try freelance assassinating?" Stark grinned. "Oh, didn't you get the billionaire and philanthropist thing? No, wait that's right, you weren't there when Cap wanted to know what I was without the suit. Or rather you were on the helicarrier only on the other side. How was that working out for you? You seem pretty pissed about it. Anyway, I'm more than happy to fund the lot of you because Fury's fury will know no bounds." His grin was somehow both smug and wicked. "All the funding will be through my mother's charity, the Maria Stark Foundation. Which isn't interested in Dr Banner's patents, by the way. Or mine, come to that."

"So we're a tax write-off," Romanoff said.

"My bankers won't even notice your expenses, though my CEO might." Stark suddenly looked horrified. "Oh, my God, Pep. I need to call her. She's going to skin me alive – and she's going to blame me for not leaving voicemail that I was dying... "

An educated English voice unexpectedly interrupted the monologue, apparently issuing from Stark's cell's speaker. It startled everyone except Romanoff. "I have informed Ms Potts that you survived, sir, thanks to the Hulk. JFK is still in operation, and Mr Hogan is waiting for her with the Rolls."

"They'll never get a Roller within a mile of Stark Tower," Steve pointed out. "The streets are full of burnt out cars, bits of building, and the NYPD." 

"Oh, Happy and Pepper may be slowed a little, but they won't be stopped," Tony said cheerfully. "God knows where Happy's going to park the Rolls, though."

"It's nice to know Rolls Royce is still in business," Steve observed nostalgically. At least some things hadn't changed.

"But owned by BMW," Tony corrected him. "Rolls Royce Aerospace is still vaguely British – well, as much as any international company is any nationality nowadays."

Steve blinked at him. "A German company owns Rolls Royce? Are you sure we won the war?"

"The Soviet people won the war," Romanoff said dryly. "The Americans and British may have helped. But it has been suggested that Germany and Japan eventually won the peace."

Steve really did not want to think about that right now.  
"Anyhow, if I were you," Stark swept on, inclining his head towards Romanoff and Barton, though his eyes never left Steve, "I'd get back to whatever quarters SHIELD has stowed you in, grab whatever you can't replace, and come to Stark Tower. Then we can sort out what you're going to do next." He picked up his phone and shoved his chair aside, plainly getting ready to leave. "Thor, you're gonna have to deal with your brother. I don't think he should be left to Selvig and SHIELD any longer than necessary."

"Loki and I leave soon after the sun rises," said Thor. "Fury has agreed to provide guards, but I would feel safer in your company."

"You'll have it," Steve said.

"It'll also get under Fury's guard," Tony chuckled. "Okay, people, let's roll. The Avengers have work to do."


End file.
